20 Reasons To Live 20 Reasons To Die
by Cycian
Summary: Hearts are easy to break; but friends are here for a reason, are they not ? Not really good at summaries, but you might like it.
1. Reason to live or Tea Is Great

"So... It's the end, isn't it ?" Asked Evelyn Trevelyan,her eyes painfully hopeful, shining bright like her fateful hand.

"I... I do wish there was another way, but I fear that there is nothing that can be done my Lady... I truly am sorry..." Josephine Montilyet was trying to push back all her feelings and pain at the back of her head, she needed to be strong, for both of their hearts were breaking, shattering like glasses. She looked sadly in her former lover's bleak eyes, green like spring leaves, ever joyful, except for this moment, a moment of weakness, or a moment of strength, for she did not hide the pain and deception in her eyes. The Herald nodded.

"Just...Be happy." It was terribly cliché, but it was all that Evelyn could say, she did not have the will to say what was on her mind. Josephine faked a smile, before turning around to greet a messenger, hoping that no one would notice her wet eyes.

 _So... That's it ?_ Thought the Inquisitor. No cries, no screams, no fights, nothing. Blank. She stood motionless, she didn't remember how long she stood still, eyes locked on the door, she did not even notice the tears that formed in her eyes. She thought that her mind would be full of grandiose things to say, that maybe she would feel at least something. But no, it was like a cold shower washing over her. Like standing on the battlefield, last one standing, blood on armor, sword in hand, looking at the dawn that added more red to the already bloody scene. She really wanted to put words on her pain, but she could not. She was motionless in a pain that beared no name, stuck in a cage that offered no shame, everything seemed pointless.

Some people after a break up often said "We've been through so much together.".But right now, it was not true, for Josie and her were lovers from different worlds.

" But you and I could have been so beautiful..." Whispered the Herald to herself.

 _Here it comes..._ She has had breakups, she had seen herself at the worst moments, and at the best moments. She knew what was coming, but did not know the intensity. She wasn't ready for the sting in her heart when she passed Josie's office. Memories flooded, her vision blurred. Her hand hurt, but soon after, the pain was replaced by a warm sensation. Someone was holding her hand.

"Cole ?"

"You don't have to speak if you don't want to. I know what you want to sleep, you want to feel nothing but at the same time, you want to feel everything. You want to make yourself at home in pain, because you know you'll always feel it. You want to feel all of it, you want to be hurt, because it's all you can think of, because when you are in pain, you speak words of wisdom. When you bleed, you inspire others. You're a martyr. You think it's your only use. You have always been ready to die, always been ready to suffer. Whenever danger was near, you took of your armor, making yourself a living shield for others, because you think that dying is easier than living... Why ? Why don't you want to live ? Why can't I help you ?" Muttered Cole, his eyes looking everywhere, confused.

"Cole... Sometimes, a meaningful death means more than countless meaningful lives. But blood dries fast in history."

" What is your symbol ,what would you die for ?" Asked the hatted boy, trying to help those who could not be helped.

Evelyn stopped and thought.

" I don't know."

" What are you fighting for ?"

" I don't know..."

Dorian stepped in, charming as ever.

"Dear, Vivienne awaits you in your quarters. No, no questions allow. No, you don't have a choice. You can't refuse anything to me, can you ? Smirked the mage, with his cute little puppy eyes.

Evelyn looked at the necromancer, an eyebrow raised. She nodded, before heading toward her quarters.

After blaming the stairs in all the languages she knew ( Tevene included ), the Inquisitor opened the room to a very busy looking Vivienne, who was discussing with her tailor, who seemed to drown in despair.

" Oh, dear, here you are. Please strip." Said the Knight-Enchanter as if she was simply asking for water .

" I...Beg your pardon ?"

" You heard me, my friend. Strip. And do not give me that look." Added the enchantress, before turning her back on the inquisitor to discuss about warm colours with the poor tailor.

The Herald stripped down, leaving only her small clothes on.

Vivienne looked at her body, judging and evaluating.

" See ? I was right. Give her the dress."

" The what now ?" Asked Evelyn, confused as can be.

" Dear, I think you might have earing problems. Hurry up, we have more to do."

" I beg your pardon ?"

"Herald, please wipe off that confused look off your face, it makes you look like a lost puppy who lost the tail it was chasing."

The tailor helped her to put on a complicated dress, it took them approximatively 20 minutes of constant pain and stretches, the dress being quite tight.

"And now, my dear, breathe out." Exactly after doing as she was told too, the dress seemed to become larger, enough for her to fit in without feeling caged.

She looked in the mirror, the dress was... It left her speechless.

A cream coloured dress, going down to her feet, with frills on each sides. The dress was clingy without being tight, and backless. The décolleté was pleasantly showing off her attributes, lightly transparent ; but not vulgar. On each side of the back's opening, tiny roses that seemed to change colours the more you looked at them. The dress was strapless, revealing her graceful shoulders. From her décolleté's sides, next to her armpits, delicates ribbons of silk lacing up to her frail looking neck.

She was amazed by the tailor's work, as he looked down in shame.

"It should have been better, but I only had so lil' time your Grace.." Mumbled the man, whom had quite a thick Orlesian accent.

"It... It is perfect, ser. Perfect." Said Evelyn, looking in disbelief at herself feeling pretty.

Vivienne almost chuckled at the Herald's surprised and confused face, gracefully hiding her bright smile with the back of her hand.

"You look like a princess, dear."

" I- thank you, fairy godmother."

Vivienne smirked.

" Now, follow me. No questions."

The Inquisitor nodded, and after putting on shoes, she and the enchantress went to the courtyard, were a small table was set, with a kettle, and two cups.

" We are... About to have tea ?"

The enchantress smiled, and gestured her to sit down one of the two comfortable chairs. Vivienne sat down and poured them both tea.

It was sweet at first, but after putting the cup down, it felt a bit sour in her mouth, leaving a taste of bitterness, even after sipping again. She noticed that Vivienne hadn't touched her cup after the first taste.

" You aren't drinking ?"

" Dear, when something tastes wrong to you, why do you keep on drinking it ?"

" But.. It felt so good and sweet at first. I hoped it would be as sweet after."

" If anything ever tastes wrong to you, if it ever hurts you, do not ever expect it to be sweet. If it's bitter once, it is meant to be bitter again. The question is: would you prefer to suffer through the constant bitterness, only to wait for something that might never come. And then you will drop your cup, when it will be empty. But will you be able to have some more tea ? Will you be ready for another round of bitterness ?"

Evelyn was not an idiot, and she knew that were not discussing only about tea.

" It's never too late for the tea to get sweeter. And what if someone else takes your tea ?"

" It is your tea, dear. It is not about what your brain, it is about wether you like the tea enough to be willing to speak up, or even to fight, to get your tea back."

The inquisitor looked away, before downing her cup.

" Thank you Vivienne, it was very interesting." She was about to get up, when Vivienne's hand rested on her arm.

" For what it is worth, darling, I am sorry."

She did not answer. She did not need to.

" And... Dear ?"

" Yes?"

"Don't forget that if you don't like tea.. You can still find champagne." Grinned the lady of Iron, before leaving the garden.


	2. Reason to die or On Your Knees

She was sitting alone in her room. She woke up very early-or didn't sleep more than one hour. Evelyn finished all of her duties for the day, and she would have started to do the rest of her duties for the next if not for the ever careful seeker that pratically dragger her to bed.

"It's only three in the afternoon !" She pleaded.

"I do not care, you are visibly tired and need sleep." Said the Hero Of Orlais, with a tone and glare that informed the red-haired woman that trying to escape her fate would be impossible.

So here she was, sitting alone in her room, feeling more tired than ever, but not able to find sleep, her eyes red, from tears not shed, or were they shed ? She did not even recall. She felt as if she was free-falling into darkness, nothing but the intoxacting smell of burning candle, the smell of honey; cinnamon, and most importantly, her voice, ringing over and over in her head, like a tune, a slow torture slowly eating her from inside out.

She breathed deep in, breathed deep out, feeling her chest hravier and heavier with each wretched breath, blaming everything that made her breath.

A room. She was in a room, in front of her, it was a reflection of her, like a distorting mirror.

" You could've begged her to stay !"

She was quickly replaced... Or she spun around extremely fast without noticing.

" You are stupid !"

Another quick turn:

" Why didn't you stop her?"

Another one:

" It's your fault !"

And another one:

" You were not good enough, nor will you ever be good enough for anything !"

The screaming went on and on, she felt as if she was collapsing on herself.

 _HELP !_

She screamed over and over in her head, screams that will never be heard by anyone but her.

" She won't come back."

Screaming.

" She won't come back."

More screaming.

" She won't come back."

" Why are you doing this to me?" Asked Evelyn.

" You hate me ?"

" I do !"

" I am just a painful truth. And you happen to like gorgeous lies. Do you prefer hapiness to be an illusion ? Do you prefer to embrace a lie ? " Asked the faceless voice.

She was sitting alone in her room. She gasped for air. She got up, with no real intentions of doing anything else than sitting in the dark.

Josephine was not used to breakups. She was not used to that constant ache in her chest, to that painful throb in her throat. She wasn't used to the ragged breathing; to the ever present burden that seemed to get heavier with each second. She struggled to speak, and all her words sounded like a woeful song to her ears, like a wounded animal limping for help in a world where everyone was a hunter.

She was in her chamber, back against the bed, face looking straight at the floor, as if she expected the dried roses to bloom again, as if something that once had been so beautiful could come back.

Dried roses were beautiful too, but in a sad way. Petals who used to form a perfect blooming rose starting to go away from each other, and dying apart from the others, before uniting in a final, grandissimo final, were everyone was already body-deep in the grave.

Oh, how dried roses were beautiful, but how painful she were to look out, because broken souls are like dried roses. Lost their colours, lost what most people love. But no one love dried up roses more than broken souls who lost their red or broken hearts that bled their red out.

Yes, dried roses were magnificent in the Antivan. She was a dying rose curling up on herself, willingly letting herself dry out, slowly killing herself with silence, like a hand forced upon a mouth that kept the people from breathing.

Josephine only existed for words, was she just the echoes of her words ?

But broken pleas upon walls of ignorance are not loud enough to make any echo, are they ? She wanted to scream, and at the same time, she did not. She wanted to stay calm, to settle this the diplomatic way. She needed to, didn't she ?

She wrote letters, letters inked with her soul, her feelings, everything she could not say.

And she set fire to it.

The pages burning left a lingering smell that she found pleasant and obnoxious. Her head was spinning, her voice breaking. Her will shaking like the walls of Haven during the attack. The pages curling like dried up roses.

Josie came back to her room,leaving the ashes on her balcony.

She let herself fall on her bed, before curling up, like a dried up rose.

" I love you." She repeated over and over in hushed whispers, her eyes looking at the balcony of the woman she loved.

She had never felt more alone, she had never felt such sadness. Well, feeling was a bit different from what she was experiencing for she was feeling empty. It felt as if every emotion she has had in her life suddenly decide to leave her behind. She was alone.

Alone in the darkness.

She looked up to the rising moon, she was out from her dress, only a blanket wrapped around her waist. The moon never looked so beautiful to wanted to speak, but what was there to say ?

" I want to love you, but you don't let me.." She whispered to the moon, as if she were expecting an answer.

"But what would it change ? My will never made anything change. I wished hundreds and hundreds of time for things to get back to normal. I wished for a peaceful world, I wished for a love that will not hurt me back. I wished for happiness, only to be struck by woe." She muttered between gritted teeth.

She looked at the moon, and for a moment; she felt small. A tiny speck of dust in the universe. A drop in the ocean. She was not alone, and she surely was not the first to experience such a heartbreak. But Maker, it hurt..

She fell to her knees, praying, lips sealed for a silent prayer. Whispered sentences written long ago, lips silently moving around the words that were pronounced by heroes and their foes, by beggars and kings. For when praying, everyone is a tiny speck of dust, kneeling before something trying to protect them. On their knees for the same reason ; salvation, and hope for peace, be it an inner one, or THedas's peace.

So the Inquisitor was praying, as smoke gently made its way unto the air, spiraling like a snake, before flying away like a majestic angel, dissolving into the magnificient night sky.

Evelyn liked to think that in this moment, she was not the Herald, not even a Trevelyan. Just another soul, another Evelyn kneeling in the dark of night, only lighted by the opalescent moon.

Leliana was kneeling as well, praying for her friend.

Cassandra was praying, in front of her bed.

Varric was hand-joined, on his knees before his desk, hands against his sweaty forehead.

Dorian's eyes were closed, as his lips moved discreetly, praying in Tevene.

Iron Bull was drinking with Sera, under the careful eyes of Cole.

Vivienne was lying on her sofa, reciting the chant in her head, as she was peacefully reading.

Cullen was kneeling, hands joined painfully tightly, sweat running down his face to land on the cold ground.

Solas already sleeping, his mind already for from their time, smiling as he saw people pray. People with long ears and sharp teeth.

Blackwall, head against the door, his fists bloodied from punching the wall, his eyes glistening with the ghosts of his past, as he prayed as loud as he was allowed to, trying to chase away the screaming echoing in his ears.

Morrigan put her son to bed, smiling faintly at his curiousness as he asked for another story.

"'Tis late now, rest, you will have more stories at dawn, after your training."

"Mother... Why don't we pray ?"

"Why should we ?"

"Because they are praying."

"Do you want to pray ?"

"I want to pray for them."

Morrigan was about to spit on the Chantry and all it stands for. But instead she just said :

" Instead of praying, you should try to help them if you really want to, I highly doubt that a divine being would take the time to help with everyone's little problems."

" Then why are they praying ?"

" I do not know, I have never been a part of this foolishness, little man. Now, sleep."

Josephine, curled up on the ground, hands soaked with ink.

She could use a prayer or two.


	3. Reason to live or the picnic

Blackwall. Blackwall was by no mean a simple man, he survived hell on the battlefield, and hell in his head. He was strong, physically, and mentally. He was a man who cared about his friends, but he bore a cruel and embarrassing burden : a secret, for Blackwall was not who he pretended to be, and even his name was not his.

But still, he had conceptions on honour and justice, on loyalty and valour. After the revelation of his deepest secret, and having somehow lost most of the approval of those he almost came to consider friends, he isolated himself in the fort's barn, away from everyone. Everyone but Evelyn Trevelyan. Evelyn kept on spending time with him,and kept on calling him Blackwall, despite what others thought.

 _" Why do you keep on calling me Blackwall ?" He had asked, curious._

 _" You said it yourself, it is simpler. You said Blackwall stood for what was right, he was a hero. He stood for justice, he fought for what was right. And so do you. No, do not contradict me, you know I am right. You may have done wrong in your past, but I believe that you paid the price. "_

 _"I took lives ! Children, kids that did not ask for it !"_

 _" But you did try to redeem yourself, did you not ? You fought with your life, and with your soul. You let yourself fall amidst the darkest darkness of your very own being. You had to fight against a terrible enemy, your conscience. Thom Rainier was a murderer, but I do believe that Blackwall was someone exemplar. To this day, you are more Blackwall than Thom. You stand with the righteous, and the righteous count you as one of them."_

 _"Who ? Vivienne, Solas, and even Cullen despise me !"_

 _" Primo: they don't, secundo : Sera, Varric, Iron Bull and Cole still like you ! You isolated yourself thinking they did not care anymore, when they did ! And I still care ! "_

 _Blackwall was surprised, she... Cared ?_

 _" You do ?"_

 _" Yes I do, you man bear !"_

Man bear. It was his nickname. Everyday at Skyhold, she called him man bear. Many would have thought it meant as offensive, but it was not. It was the sweetest nickname he had ever bore, and the nickname that meant the world to him.

The day following the first use of that nickname, she took him to the tavern. Forced would be a more fitting word, though.

 _She tucked her small arm under his, and under the shocked gazes of folks, she took him to the tavern._

 _" People will talk, my lady."_

 _" Let them. "_

 _"One smile was all it took for me to fall for you. Two words were all it took for me to be yours. Three minutes were all I needed to know that I could never leave your side. Four syllables were all I needed to know that you would never be mine." He had thought._

 _She took him to the tavern, kicked the door open. His surprise was complete when he saw a large table before the fireplace, eight chairs, and two empty seats._

 _"Blackwall, cat got your tongue ?" Asked Sera, on her chair, a mug of ale between her hands._

 _The bearded man stood there, motionless. Cullen was sitting at the table, busy in a conversation with Cassandra. Varric was explaining Cole that speaking to the cards was not a good idea. Josephine looked at him curiously, but he then remembered that he had the ambassador's girlfriend under his arm. He looked down at the Inquisitor, whom was smiling from ear to ear like a giant cat. For a single moment, he thought his heart stopped, he could not tear his eyes away from the brunette, from her beautiful eyes. Her smile widened further, her eyes narrowing slightly. They heard a discreet cough in the background, and Blackwall turned around to face the most terrifying stare he had ever seen on a woman's face. Well, except Leliana's. The ambassador's face made him reconsider the fact that the red-headed spymaster was the scariest woman in Skyhold._

 _The raven haired maiden left his arm to sit next to the furious antivan. She gently kissed Josephine, a simple and chaste kiss on her lips. Sera giggled and imitated moan noises, and laughed even more at the antivan's burning cheeks._

 _"Sit with us, bear man !" Smiled the Herald, patting the empty seat next to her._

 _He sat down, and they started playing._

 _He could not remember how he made it back to the barn safely, but he certainly remembered the massive hangover that followed this night._

 _Even the ambassador could not attend her morning matters,some say it was because of the wild night that followed their Wicked Grace playing._

He heard about lady Montilyet rejecting the Herald. He spent the night back against her door, for the umpteenth time in a row. Oh, how he wished he could just join her and help her.

He decided to act. He spent two days away from Skyhold, gathering flowers. He left on a carriage, and came back on a carriage full of flowers. He asked a servant to get him the inquisitor.

" Dare I ask what you're doing, Blackwall ?" Said Evelyn, eyebrow raised.

" Just get in, I am taking you to a place you will certainly like, milady." He offered his arm, as a gentleman. He noticed the Inquisition's ambassador's presence on the battlements, looking at them with a blank face. He was glad that his beard covered his grin.

He led her to the carriage, as she sat amidst the flowers, he could not help but think that she was the most beautiful flower of all.

He sat at the front, and drove the carriage away. He gently asked her to close her eyes, and for a few hours, time had no meaning.

Evelyn only knew they had arrived when the carriage stopped. For those few hours, she did not think of Josephine, and did not think of the hole in her heart.

" You can open your eyes now."

As soon as she opened her eyes, she was struck by the beauty of this place. The breach seemed almost invisible in the blue sky, with a few clouds covering the valley. Flowers bloomed all over the place. Not a single piece of the place was not covered in grass and vivid flowers. A river ran beside her, and the soft wind blowed in her hair. The sun lighted the whole plain, making the water shine.

The Herald had no idea how long she had been staring at the deers drinking from the river, next to the little snow hares. She had no idea how long she had been lost in the bird's graceful singing. Blackwall's hand on her shoulder cut off her reverie.

"My lady, you should turn around. "

All the flowers were laid to contour a large piece of silk fabric. On the fabric, a few bottles of wine, and enough food to make a dragon's stomach explode. Blackwall and her sat down, and talked of nothing that mattered. Their view on justice, on books, she was surprised to learn that Blackwall liked poetry. After a while, they remained in silence, their eyes locked on the sky. Without knowing it, they both fell asleep, under the peaceful gazes of deers and rabbits. They woke up to Sera's gleeful laugh.

" Sleepin' beauties are 'wake now ? I'm so hungry I could eat three cows in a row without stoppin'"

" Same goes for me." Added the Iron Bull, patting his tummy.

Vivienne and Dorian were bantering playfully on the choice of flowers, while Varric was whistling at the wine's. Cole was cuddling a rabbit, while another hare was on his hat.

" Rabbits." He smiled.

Cassandra was reading a book, probably swords and shields, her feet in the river. Cullen was nervously looking at a deer, which looked at him in the exact same way, while Leliana was absentmindedly petting a bird while chatting with Maryden, exchanging stories.

Solas was sitting under a tree, probably dreaming.

" Time to eat !" Laughed Krem, when the boss of the charger's stomach started growling. Evelyn suddenly understood why Blackwall brought so much food.

They all sat down, and ate, speaking of everything that did not concern the war. She discovered Cullen's aversion for birds, shared by Sera who always feared that they might shit on her. Iron Bull was quite the wine connoisseur, from what Dorian told them, and his choice of wine proved them that the Tevinter Mage was right. For dessert, they had cookies, and Sera refused to admit that she was the one who baked them, but Evelyn easily recognised the unique flavour of the prankster's cookies. They were absolutely delicious, and Sera's elf were bright red when everyone, including Vivienne, complimented the cookies.

It was such a perfect day, she thought. Such a perfect day.


End file.
